


Object Lessons

by Siria



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: kissemdanno, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny observes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/gifts).



Steve's got sand in his hair and a nasty scrape running the length of his left shin. He has a purpling bruise on his left side, a faint flush from the Hawaiian sun on his cheekbones, and he's halfway to sleep already, curled up on his good side. Danny stands and watches him for a moment—thinks Steve must be exhausted if he's voluntarily gone near Danny's shitty sofa-bed; thinks Steve can't be hurt too badly if he paused to strip off his shirt before lying down. He makes a command decision, kicks off his shoes, unknots his tie, and lies down behind Steve on the bed.

This close to Steve—who gives off heat like a furnace, who murmurs something drowsily when Danny slings an arm around his waist—with things this new between them, Danny can't stop himself from getting half-hard. Yet unlike some people he could mention, some people who have historically been known to have no problem with the concept of _wham, bam, thank you ma'am (and/or sir)_ while in possession of a black eye and a nasty first degree burn, Danny's in no hurry. Maybe it's not going to earn him a nickname like Smooth Dog anytime soon, but he's going to take his time.

There are some things you should take your time with, and, all things considered, it didn't take Danny too long to realise that Steve's one of them. Sure, maybe it took a little longer than it strictly should for a trained detective, but in Danny's defence he was distracted by the explosions and the ongoing custody battle and the frankly excessive amount of property destruction. Steve's one of them, and so Danny's been known to do things like crowd Steve into his tiny shower stall and learn by feel each scar on Steve's body (the slash of old knife wounds; the puckers left behind by more bullets than Danny cares to think about; the odd pebble dash feel that comes from being dragged along behind a truck). He's been known, in the name of empiricism, for the sake of living up to his detective badge, to sit up against the headboard of Steve's bed and then flatly refuse Steve permission to touch ( _No, seriously, I said_ do not touch, _McGarrett, are monosyllables getting to be too much for you now? Not that I wouldn't understand if you've experienced some loss of higher brain function after the Williams Experience_ ), while Danny gets himself off, slow and aching, thanks to nothing more than his own right hand and the heat in Steve's eyes.

But right now, at this moment in time, this is what Danny is focusing on: the sun-faded blues and greens of Steve's tattoos. He traces the dips and twirls of the designs with the tips of his fingers until Steve's breaking out in goose bumps, for all that it's 90 degrees outside. He waits until he hears Steve mumble _Danny_ , and then he licks at the shockingly smooth skin, scrapes along the dividing line between tanned skin and blue with the edge of his teeth.

 _Do not do that again_ , Danny tells him, _do not put me into a situation where my daily paperwork involves the terms 'pursued the suspect on foot' and 'volcano', do you hear me, you colossal jackass_ , and he supposes he should be somewhat gratified that Steve doesn't even try to lie to him, doesn't say _'s'okay, Danno, I won't_. Steve just pants and throws his head back, tugs Danny's hand down to palm his cock where it's already tenting his cargo pants.

Because if you take your time, Danny thinks, you get this: you get to hear the sound Steve makes if you bite down on the skin right _there_ ; get to hear the groan that works its way out of Steve's throat if you lick at the sunburst of freckles that shows through the pale blue. Most interesting of all, though, the thing that makes Danny grin, is what happens when he presses a very gentle kiss to the ink—Steve whimpers and bucks his hips and comes.

 _See?_ Danny says and allows him to feel entirely, understandably smug, _Patience is a virtue, McGarrett_.

 _Bite me_ , Steve mumbles, his voice endorphin-thick.

 _Eh_ , Danny says, tugging the blanket up over them, _maybe later_. There's something to be said for anticipation after all.


End file.
